953 


JC-NRLF 


303 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 
By 

Hannah  Parker  Kimball 


GIFT  OF 
Pi?o JT0  s  s  01*    Hinds 


OATEN  STOP  SERIES 
IV 


SOVLttSENSE 

BY  HANNAH  PARKER 
K1MBALL 


BOSTON  COPELAND  AND  DAY 
M  D  CCC  XCVI 


9 

\- 


* 

«r\  « 

C   1   C  O 


COPYRIGHT  BY  COPELAND  AND  DAY    1896 


The  lines  given  under  the  heading, 
"  Earlier  Pieces,"  were  originally  printed 
in  a  small  volume  entitled  "The  Cup  of 
Life."  For  permission  to  reprint  a  few  of 
the  poems  in  the  first  section  of  "Soul  and 
Sense,"  thanks  are  due  to  Scribner*  s  Mag- 
azine, to  Harper's  Weekly,  and  to  The 
Chap-Book. 


CONTENTS 

Soul  and  Sense  Page   i 

Contrast  i 

Revelation  2 

The  Smoke  3 

The  Heart's  Dream  of  God  4 

The  Seeker  5 

The  False  Quest  6 

Man's  Triumph  7 

What  Wonder?  7 

How  Long?  8 

Poppies  8 

Rough  Copy  9 

Two  Points  of  View  9 

When  All  Was  Said  and  Done  10 

A  Certain  Poet  1 2 

Day-Dreamers  1 3 

A  Primitive  Worship  14 

The  Soul  15 

The  Deeps  of  Sleep  15 

The  Refuge  of  the  Ideal  1 6 

Unfitness  1 7 

The  Sower  17 

Thralls  18 

The  Nation  20 

The  Christ-child  Alone  22 


CONTENTS 

Sinners  and  Righteous  Page  23 

The  Old  Inconsistency  26 

In  Praise  of  Pain  27 

Beauty  Found  28 

The  Vision  of  the  Fates  29 

Consummation  30 

Awakening  3 1 

A  New  Drinking  Song  32 

Reality  33 

Prayer  3  3 

The  Whole  36 

The  Saved  37 

Climbing  38 

Purity  38 

Repose  39 

Bethesda  40 

Estrangement  40 

Asleep  41 

Dream-Music  42 

Imperfection  44 

Love's  Thrift  44 

Forget-me-nots  45 

Love's  Miracle  47 

Love  Is  Kind  47 

Fair  Thoughts  of  Love  48 

From  Personal  to  Universal  48 

Light  49 


CONTENTS 

The  Spirit  That  Affirms  to  the  Spirit 

That  Denies  Page  49 

Testimony  50 

The  Child  and  Sorrow  50 

Surprisal  5 1 

Old  and  Young  52 

An  Imperial  Relic  53 

A  Modern  Sir  Galahad  55 

That  Day  57 

Death  the  Lover  57 

The  Fading  of  the  Light  58 

The  Voice  of  Death  59 

Rumor  from  Beyond  62 

Afield  63 

Sun,  Cardinal,  and  Corn  Flowers  64 

Stillness  65 

Crags  on  the  Hudson  65 

The  Place  Is  Chill  66 

Torpor  67 

The  Heart  of  Man  67 

Sunshine  on  the  Lawn  68 

Autumnal  Peace  68 

Sunset  69 

The  Bats'  Revel  70 

The  Rune  of  the  Wind  72 

The  Swallow  73 

Transformation  74 


CONTENTS 

EARLIER  PIECES 

The  Outside  Sky  Page  77 

A  Common  Miracle  78 

The  Perfect  Day  79 

Sins  of  Omission  79 

Failure  80 

Dejection  81 

Life  Comes  to  Some  8 1 

Heaven  and  Hell  82 

In  Your  Mind  82 

Alone  83 

One  Way  of  Trusting  85 

Agnostics  85 

The  Heart  of  the  Christian  Town  86 

Retribution  87 

Peace  88 

An  Oracle  89 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

AND  OTHER 

VERSES 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

MYRIADS    of    motley    molecules 
through  space 

Move  round  triumphant.     By  their  whirl- 
pool pace 
Shall    five   be  shaken  ?      All  in  earth's 

vast  span, 

Our  very  bodies,  veer  to  other  shapes; 
Mid  the   mad  dance  one  stubborn  power 

escapes, 

Looks  on,  and  marvels,  — 'tis  the  soul 
of  man. 


CONTRAST 

ROUT  and  defeat  on  every  hand, 
On  every  hand  defeat  and  rout; 
Yet  through  the  rent  clouds'"  hurrying  rack 
The  stars  look  out. 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

Decay  supreme  from  west  to  east, 

From  south  to  north  supreme  decay; 
-Vet  Sf.iil  the  withered  fields  and  hills 
1  Grow  green  with  May. 

'  Sri  clod  and  man  unending  strife, 

Unending  strife  in  man  and  clod; 
Yet  burning  in  the  heart  of  man 
The  fire  of  God. 


REVELATION 

IN  dreams  my  head  is  sunk  between 
The  daisy  and  the  fern; 
I  gaze  into  the  deeps  of  Heaven, 
To  me  their  blue  repose  is  given; 
And  when  the  clear  stars  twinkle  keen, 
Their  secret  spells  I  learn. 

I  hear  Time  fiercely  pulse  about 
This  earth's  re-echoing  shell; 

I  hear  through  space  the  eager  rush; 

And  then  I  feel  God's  mighty  hush 

O'er-topping    Time's    loud    coil    and 

shout, 
And  know  that  all  is  well. 


THE  SMOKE 

And  when  I  wake  a  vision  clings, 

And  wheresoever  I  go, 
Mankind  is  taller  by  a  crown 
Of  light,  that  drops  from  Heaven  down, 
On  gently  sliding,  silent  wings, 

With  silvery  fire  aglow. 


THE  SMOKE 

DOVE-WINGED    against    a    tender, 
turquoise  sky 

The  white  smoke  flits;  or  through  the  lam- 
bent air 

Quivers  to  fading,  violet  spirals  fair; 
Or  shifts  to  grey,  curled  upward  heavily. 

It  rises  in  strong,  twisted  columns  high 
From    grimy    funnels,   flecked   with    fitful 

flare; 
Or  through  the  planks  of  creaking  bridges 

bare 
Sifts  a  swift,  sinuous  way  to  trail  and  die. 

The  still,  vast  skies  are  background  for  its 
strife; 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

"T  is  like  man's  yearnings  mounting  from 

man's  pain, 
Seeking  the  tranquil  Heavens  waveringly: 

Earth's  ceaseless  clash  and  clangor  give  it 

life; 
'Tis  like  man's  prayers  that,  born  of  toil 

and  strain, 
Trail,  — and  are  lost  in  God's  immensity. 


THE  HEART'S  DREAM  OF  GOD 

THERE     came    a    shape;    men     said, 
"'Tis  Reason  bright." 
Can  Reason  be  so  ruthless,  so  severe? 
It  slew  my  pretty  flowers  with  a  blight; 
It  crushed  my  budding  leaves  as  well  as 
sere; 

And  left  my  garden  drear. 

There  came  a  wind,  and  "  Doubting"  was 

its  name. 

It  blew  and  blew,   my  rose-leaves  tore 
and  cleftj 


THE  SEEKER 

And  whirling  round, a  giddy,  empty  game, 
It  heaped  much  dust  about,   and  more 
bereft 

My  poor,  bare  garden  left. 

Rejoice,  my  heart!     What?     On  the  tram- 
pled sod 
Bowed   down,   poor  foolish  thing,  and 

sobbing  low? 

It  seems  to  think  it  was  its  dream  of  God 
That  made  the  fountain  in  the  garden 
flow, 

And  even  the  roses  blow! 


THE  SEEKER 

I  AM  a  diver, 
Into  the  deep  of  man's  nature  I  dive; 

Ah,  but  there  live  there 
Monsters  that  sleep,  that  wrestle  and  strive. 

Wonders  of  thinking, 
Marvels  of  passion,  breed  there  and  thrive; 

Find  I,  deep  sinking, 
Glorious  in  fashion,  flowers  alive. 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

Patient,  at  leisure, 
Onward,  still  on,  through  the  green  whirl, 

Seek  I  one  treasure, 
Priceless  alone,  seek  I  the  pearl. 

I  am  a  diver 
Into  the  sweeping,  into  the  swirl ; 

Of  all  that  may  live  there 
Cognisance   keeping;  —  but  where   is  the 
pearl? 

Ah,  where  is  the  pearl? 


THE  FALSE  QUEST 

IN  youth,  "Let  us  arise,  take  sail,'''  we 
say, 

"  Over  blue  seas  to  find  out  happiness; 
There  is  a  purple  island,  far  away, 

Where  life  beneath  the  sun  is  shadow- 
less." 

The  torn  sails  flap,  the  rudder  is  undone, 
The  bright  hulk  rots  that  our  young  vis- 
ions bore; 

That  purple  island  sleeps  not  'neath  the  sun, 
And  still  we  wander  on  a  shadowy  shore. 
6 


MAN'S  TRIUMPH 


MAN'S  TRIUMPH 

WE  call  unto  the  gods;  our  cry 
Clamorous  ascends  the  sky. 
Ever  the  gods  incline  them  and  reply: 
"Fight   on    in    darkness;    struggle    to    be 

brave; 

Battle  with  evil;  wrestle  for  the  right; 
Fight    on   in    darkness;     Heaven's    is    the 

light;  t 
Man's  triumph  is  in  darkness  to  be  brave." 


WHAT  WONDER? 

AH,  if  the  soul    know  all,  yet  is  held 
blind 

And  dumb  by  thwarting  ligatures  of  flesh 
Bound  o'er  wise  eyes  and  strong  lips  wis- 
dom-curled, 

What  wonder  it  so  often  fails  to  find, 
In  blindman's  holiday,  this  life's  mad  mesh, 
Its  clue  to  blindly  conquer  this  blind  world  ? 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


HOW  LONG? 

O PRODIGAL  of  blood,  and  pain, 
And  conflict,  (since  the  human  soul 
Thereby  emerges  free  from  stain,) 

Who  never  countest  stress  and  dole:  — 
How  many  spans?  what  strife?  what  strain? 

How  much  of  Thine  eternity, 
Ere,  pierced  with  truth  again,  again, 
Our  souls,  unswerving,  turn  to  Thee? 


POPPIES 

GLEAN  through  the  field,  dread  Lord, 
Thine  is  the  field. 

Lo,  here  are  blazing  poppies,  everyone 
A  drop  of  blood-red  joy  that  I  have  won; 
And  other  flow'rs  than  these  the  field  shall 
yield. 

But  His  eyes  seek  the  grain.     Nay,  Lord, 

refrain. 
May  not  the  flow'rs  suffice  Thee?     Woe, 

His  eyes 


ROUGH  COPY 

That  seek   the    grain!  —  How    bare    each 

furrow  lies!  — 
I  know  not,  Lord, — the  poppies  choked 

the  grain. 


ROUGH  COPY 

AH  life,  rough  copy  of  the  life  sublime 
The   soul   lives   on    her  hill-top  high 
apart; 
Blotted   and  blurred   with   poor,   distorted 

art!  — 

Yet  God  stoops  down  to  read  the  scrawl 
of  Time. 


TWO   POINTS  OF  VIEW 

I 


ALL  this  costly  expense 
For  a  few  white  souls  forgiven, 
For  a  smiling  throng  of  a  few  elect, 
White  harpers  harping  in  Heaven. 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 
II 

Lord,  Thy  glance  is  wide, 

And  Thy  wide  arms  circle  the  whole, 
Shall  out  of  Thy  net  of  loving  glide 

One  wandering  human  soul? 


WHEN  ALL  WAS  SAID  AND 
DONE 


THIRST  for  the  personal  pang,  the 
sacrifice, 

Made  all  his  wide,  bright  leisure  seem  a 
maze 

Of  tiny  discords,  intricate,  shrill  5  and  he 

Who  could  not  lose  himself  in  fancies, 
faced 

The  passion-pure  Madonna's  rose-leaf 
cheek, 

The  Sun-god's  body's  perfect  grace  in- 
tense, 

And  all  art's  wealth  of  shameless,  chosen 
joys, 


WHEN  ALL  WAS  SAID 

Chilled  by  a  secret  hunger.      His  smooth 

books 
Lied,   telling  him  that  life  was  wondrous 

well. 
Before    red    sunset-glows,    where    poplars 

prim 
Pricked  the  pale  pain  of  evening's  sallow 

cheek 

Into  great  wrath  and  fierceness,  ear  astrain, 
He  heard  a  wandering  cry,  and  thought  the 

sky 

Blushed  brutally  for  murder  in  the  streets. 
So  he  stood  forth,  and  drank  the  fiery  cup 
This  Judas-life  wrings  out  for  those  who 

strive. 

His  heart  dashed  up  its  pity  and  revolt, 
Crimsoning  the  very  stars 5  his  voice  grew 

shrill. 


II 


After  long  years  of  fever  and  demur 
A  curious  dumbness  took  him.     Wistful- 
eyed, 

He  did  not  struggle  then;  he  softly  lived, 
With  deprecating  nods  and  faded  smiles 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

As  sweet  as  withered  rose-leaves.     Yet  if 

one 

Lifted  a  violent  voice  to  storm  for  truth, 
To  goad  for  good,  he  spake,   and  gently 

said, 
With  yearning  eye,   and  loyal,  trembling 

lip; 
"  Strive,  brother,  strive,  but  strive  in  God's 

own  peace, 
Strive  in  great  peace,  because  God  made 

the  world." 


A  CERTAIN  POET 

HOW  his  fearful  lips  were  shaken, 
By  the  faltering  song  he  sung! 
By  the  thunderous  tide  of  living, 
How  his  inmost  soul  was  wrung! 

How  the  clamorous  voice  of  Babel 
Smote  him  like  a  naked  sword! 

How  his  eyelids  longed  for  darkness, — 
Eyes  had  seen  the  living  Lord! 

Still  before  him  rose  the  vision, 

Robed  in  light  from  heel  to  crown, 
12 


DAY-DREAMERS 

Still  he  saw  the  Lord  of  life, 

And  all  his  quaking  soul  bowed  down. 

And  he  sung,  with  shaken  lips, 

And  voice  that  quavered  in  his  awe, 

Shrill,  amid  his  hurrying  heart-beats, 
Sung  the  Presence  that  he  saw. 


DAY-DREAMERS 

LIKE    those   that    wait    for    messages 
they  stand  5 
And  Time  sweeps  by. 
Far,  far  away  they  see  a  golden  band     . 
Against  the  sky. 


JL  a 

- 


Far,  far  away,   from    some    song-haunted 

"grove, 
Sweet  notes  they  hear, 
stir  with  silvery  strains  of  certain  love,  — 
But  nothing  near. 


Strange  flutterings  from  afar  the  light  breeze 

brings, 
Now  quick,  now  slow; 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

An  airy  strife  of  vast  and  distant  wings 
Their  spirits  know. 

Yet  never  touch  comes  near  them,  never 
light, 

No  strain  draws  nigh 5 
Far,  far  against  the  sky  the  glory  bright} 
And  Time  sweeps  by. 


A  PRIMITIVE  WORSHIP 

1DUG  and  dug  in  desert  sands, 
The  wilderness  could  see 
My  faintness,  and  the  thing  my  hands, 
Striving,  upturned  for  me. 

O  gross-lipped  idol,  trembling  vows 
Have  hovered  round  your  lips, 

And  woven  a  halo  round  your  brows 
Of  somnolent  eclipse. 

Drift,  desert  sands,  drift  o'er  this  head, 

This  cruel  head  of  shame; 
Hide  it  from  sight;  —  let  not  the  dead 

Even  suspect  its  name. 

14 


THE  SOUL 


THE  SOUL 

1SIT  beside  the  borders  of  my  soul; 
Upon  the  glancing  surface,  to  and  fro, 

The  swift -winged  thoughts  and  bright  im- 
pressions go. 

But  most  I  love  to  gaze  far,  far  below, 

Where  budding  fancies  grow, 

And  through  the  crystal  vistas,  shoal  on 
shoal, 

Swift   feelings    dart,    mysterious    currents 
flow; 

The  while  the  quickening  breeze  sings  low 
to  me: 

"Vast  is  thy  soul,  ay,  boundless,  like  the 
sea." 


THE  DEEPS  OF  SLEEP 

UNDER    the    waves    of  the   deeps    of 
sleep 

(Fathoms  deep,  fathoms  deep), 
Let  me  lie  on  the  ocean's  bed 
(Cradled,  cradled), 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

While  the  deep  sea's  swirl  swings  over  me 

(Tenderly,  tenderly), 

And  I  know  of  naught  save  that  swaying 

sea, 
And  that  ocean's  harmony. 


THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  IDEAL 

OUR    souls   are   sick   for   permanence} 
this  world 
Shifts  wearily  on   creaking  poles   through 

space; 

No  atom  stays,  no  friend;  there  is  no  place 
Where  man  may  rest  a  heart  through  tran- 
science  whirled. 

And  we   are   sick    for  permanence.      We 

know 

Too  well  how  cities  sink  upon  the  sands;  — 
Yet  far  away  one  cloud-tipped  city  stands 
Secure,  and  through  it  ever,  to  and  fro, 

Surges  a  voice  that  cries:     "Ye   sons   of 
care, 

Frequent,  with  hearts  appeased,  my  gleam- 
ing walls; 
16 


UNFITNESS 

Tread  my  white  streets,  and  hear  your  sad 

footfalls 
Rise  deathless  music  through  my  radiant 


O  to  attain  this  city  of  our  quest, 

This  luminous  shelter  for  our  souls'  unrest! 


UNFITNESS 

OLORD,  how  are  we  fit  to  live, 
Since  bartering  life  for  greed  of  sense, 
And  cheating  faculties  divine 
Create  to  reach  Thy  inmost  shrine, 
We  lose  Thy  finer  consequence? 


THE  SOWER 

TURN    up  the   clods,   O   Sower,   lank 
and  thin. 

What  dost  thou  sow  therein? 
The  spindling  trees  look  on  5  some  languid 

sheep, 
Like  spectres  grey,  amid  the  stubble  creep. 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

The  fields  arc  wide.  What  rank  crop 
sow'st  therein, 

Fierce  farmer,  bone  and  skin? 

The  blackened  stumps  like  outraged  vic- 
tims rise, 

And  toss  wild  arms  protesting  to  the  skies. 

"  Small,   potent    seeds,   rich  seeds,   I  sow 

therein,'* 

Quoth  he,  with  sallow  grin; 
"Small  seeds,  so  dark,  and  smooth,   and 

rich  I  drop; 
Black  little  seeds.     They  make  a  mighty 

crop; — 
They  grow,"  laughed  Sin. 


I 


THRALLS 

N  what  dark  age,  by  what  nefarious  fate, 
Was  this  thing  consummate? 


The  altar  stands  upon  a  hollow  mound; 
We  circle,  reeling,  round. 

Uprises  in  grim  hideousness  the  god; 
Our  feet  a  path  have  trod. 
18 


THRALLS 

Around  its  neck  hang  dangling,  precious 

things, 
It  gleams  with  glittering  rings. 

Its  monstrous,  sallow  cheeks  are  streaked 

with  red, 
As  if  our  hearts  had  bled. 

Its  locks  are  lank,  it  hath  an  evil  leer; 
Alas !  what  do  we  here? 

We,  as  we  wheel,  with  kisses  burnish  bright 
The  ghastly,  gruesome  sight, 

Till  the  brass  glows  like  gold,  and  down 

below, 
Our  blood  and  sweat-drops  flow. 

Outside  the  temple  beat  the  lofty  trees,  — 
Against  such  walls  as  these ! 

They  whisper  through  the  windows;  and 

aghast, 
The  birds  fly  madly  past. 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

Woe!  woe!    Will  no  one  break  the  rank 

and  file, 
Cease  worship  of  the  vile? 

No  one  starts  forth;  and  round  in  empty 

show 
We,  faintly  reeling,  go. 

In  what  dark  age,  by  what  nefarious  fate, 
Was  this  thing  consummate? 


THE  NATION 

STRONG    is    the    nation.        High    her 
splendid  brow 

The  vast  Republic  rears  above  the  seas, 
Crested  with  clamorous  cities,  row  on  row, 
Where  once  calm  Nature's  old,  prophetic 

trees 

Whispered  together,  as  the  fitful  breeze 
Brought  on  a  white,  a  timid-fluttering  sail. 
Now    loud,    strange    powers    vociferously 

prevail, 
Thick  breaths  resound,  and  shrill  shrieks 

multiply, 


THE  NATION 

And  burdened  prows  dip  low  with  many  a 

bale  5  — 
And  He  hath  blessed  us  with  prosperity. 

Free  is  the  nation.     Free  from  hoary  fears, 
From  phantoms  of  earth's  king-encumbered 

past, 

It  glitters,  glitters  on  its  golden  piers, 
A  throbbing   mart,    a    roaring    warehouse 

vast, 

Thrilled  by  an  eager  life  respiring  fast. 
O    strange    fulfilment    of    the     Pilgrims' 

scheme 
When  every  brow  bears  Plutus'  brand! 

We  deem 

The  highest  excellence  plutocracy;  — 
And  liberty?     An  ancient,  austere  dream, 
Since  He  hath  blessed  us  with  prosperity. 

Faithful  the  nation.     On  the  savage  beach, 
Beneath  the  brooding  boughs  our  fathers 

bent, 
The   rock   their  altar;    and   their  God  to 

reach, 

Ere  they  to  splendid  duties  simply  went, 
Through  the  blue  air  their  fiery  souls  they 

sent, 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

And  dreamed  who  knows  what  Spirit-touch 

to  feel?  — 
And  we?     We  are  their  children.     See,  we 

kneel. 

The  same  hot  zeal  and  fierce  sincerity 
Our    yearning    vows    to    the    gold    calf 

reveal  5  — 
For  He  hath  cursed  us  with  prosperity. 


THE  CHRIST-CHILD  ALONE 

IN  the  long  pageant  of  man's  destiny, 
A  sweep  of  sunburnt  country  and  a  hill, 

Where  sits  a  little  child  to  watch  the  sky. — 

O  little  Jesus,  wide-eyed,  charmed,  and  still, 

How  doth  thy  hushed,  expectant,  wonder- 
ing will 

Commune    with    blade,    and    flower,    and 
startled  thing 

That  flits  across  thy  path  on  timid  wing? 

What  thoughts,  what  dreams,  what  hopes, 
what  fantasies, 

Doth  yon  vast   sweep  of  radiant  heavens 
bring? 

In   thy  child's   brain    loom  what    strange 
images? 

22 


SINNERS  AND  RIGHTEOUS 


SINNERS  AND  RIGHTEOUS 

THE  man  is  wronged.  Ay,  is  he 
wronged  or  no? 

He  hates,  at  least,  and  hatred  is  his  means 

To  frantic  love,  — the  love  of  his  revenge. 

This  creeps  at  night  and  clasps  him  by  the 
throat, 

And  clings  about  his  panting,  laboring 
heart. 

He  ringers  steel  and  cons  in  his  hot  brain 

The  words  that  are  most  keen  to  stab  and 
kill. 

Above  all  gifts  he  hungers  for  the  hour 

When  his  rapt  soul  shall  feed,  in  vulture- 
wise, 

And  be  appeased,  because  the  foe  lies 
prone, 

Slain  at  the  promptings  of  his  cruel  will; 

Since  the  gnarled  soul  finds  slaughter  ex- 
cellent. 

The  evil  woman  suns  her  by  her  door. 
Her  net  is  spread  beside  her.     In  the  house 
Are  piles  of  spoil,  a  gleam  of  gaudy  wares. 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

Once,  long  ago,  she  sat  beside  a  stream, 
And  pranked  her  curls  and  glanced  into 

the  stream. 
A   hunter  stepped  across  the  brook,  and 

gazed 

Into  her  shallow  soul.  Those  eyes  of  hers 
Turned  his  to  smouldering  fire.  In  her  lap 
He  tossed  a  ring.  The  sunlight  from  the 

brook 
Fled  to  the  ringj  the  gem  flashed  out;  she 

saw 
Its    leaping    fire    blend   with    his    burning 

eyes. 

Such  gems,   such   looks,  to  her  seem  ex- 
cellent. 

How  bright  the  hue  of  gold!     How  warm 

it  is, 
The  gleaming  gold!       It  crackles  and  it 

burns 

Upon  the  heart  of  him  who  loves  it  well, 
Like  fire    on    a    hearthstone.      More  and 

more 
Must   go  to   feed    this    fire,    content    this 

flame, 

Stronger  than  love  of  women  in  its  power. 
And  yet  ambition's  guerdon  is  the  best, 

24 


SINNERS  AND  RIGHTEOUS 

High  up  a  seat,  and  under  either  foot 
The  neck  of  something  human,  'neath  the 

throne 
The  throb  of  million  hearts;  and  then  to 

stretch 

A  head  that  looks  so  little  'gainst  the  blue, 
And  make  the  earth's  face  alter!  —  This 

is  best. 

These  are  the   men  and  women!      Then 

behold, 
Robed    in    pure    white,   before    a   spotless 

shrine, 

A  priest  who  drops  his  sacrifice,  and  turns, 
Strides  through  the  splendid  temple  to  the 

gate, 

And  sets  himself,  a  pillar,  in  a  strife 
Of  creatures  with  hands  crisped  to  hurt  and 

kill. 

Calm    on    the    mount,    with     hands     out- 
stretched to  bless, 

Arms  spread  upon  the  cross  wide  to  em- 
brace 

And  compass  half  a  world,  to  Thee  a  life 
Epitomizing  all  that  man  can  spend 
In  loyalty  to  Good  seems  excellent;  — 
And  beauty  nestles  earthward  like  a  dove. 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


THE  OLD  INCONSISTENCY 

THE  world  was  at  her  feasting,  when 
the  world 
Fled   wildly  forth,    with    drunken    eyes 

astare; 

Behold  for  toasting,  at  her  glittering  board 
Christ  took  a  vacant  chair. 

The  world  was  at  her  ruling,  when  a  cry 
Of  fear   rang  shrilly  from  her  perjured 

throat; 
For    lo,    Christ,    entering    in    the    polling 

booth, 
Would  count  the  city"1  s  vote. 

The  world  was  at  her  trading,  whe'n  she 

groaned, 
Lest  once  again  the  whip  of  cords  were 

whirled 
And  panic  raised;  the  Christ,  wide-eyed  on 

change, 
Affrayed  the  money-world. 


IN  PRAISE  OF  PAIN 

The  world  was   at   her   loving,  when   her 

cheek 
From   burning  red  turned  to  a  ghastly 

pale; 

In  the  dim  brothel,  where  her  love  was  hid, 
Christ  raised  the  silken  veil. 

The  world  was  at  her  dying,  nearly  spent, 
Her  failing  strength  could  scarcely  breath 

afford ; 
When  turning,  weeping,   on  her  clammy 

bed, 
She  called  on  Christ  the  Lord. 


IN  PRAISE  OF  PAIN 


POTENT  is  pain, 
C 


Goodly  the  flower 
Blooming  in   myriad   thorns  through  the 

quivering  brain, 

Thrusting  triumphal   its   roots   through 
the  tissue  that  lives. 

Mighty  the  host, 

Palpitant,  pieiced;  — 


27 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

Greatest  the  one  in  the  purple  who  suffered 

the  most; 

Splendid   the   scarlet   of  wounds  in   the 
hands  and  the  feet. 

Heaven  a-wing, 

In  rays  from  the  Throne;  — 
Glory  of   light  round  a  Godhead,   whose 

seraphim  sing 

Of  pain  triumphant,  compassionate,  inly- 
imposed. 


BEAUTY  FOUND 

HE  was  so  near,  so  near  he  almost  caught 
Her  flying  robes,  he  thought. 

When   lo,   a   rasping,  grievous  voice  out- 
broke; 
A  creature  clutched  his  cloak. 

He  saw  two  eyes,  deep  haunts  of  misery, 
Gaze  on  him  piteously. 


THE  VISION  OF  THE  FATES 

He  struggled  *  gainst  their  pleading,  yet  he 

turned, 
Compassion  in  him  burned. 

He  stooped,  he  soothed  and  smoothed  the 

hideous  head} 
Last  he  embraced  the  dead. 

Sudden,    full-orbed,    within    his    arms    he 

caught 
That  Beauty  that  he  sought. 


THE  VISION  OF  THE  FATES 

/CIRCLING  the  caldron  of  life, 
V^l  Cluster  the  Fates  in  a  ring, 
And  fierce  is  the  frequent,  bubbling  strife 
Of  the  caldron  strange  as  they  sing: 

"  Change,  change,  change, 

Since  the  life  of  the  planet  began ; 

Change,  change,  ever  change, 

Through  plant,  and  through  beast,  and 
through  manj 


29 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

"Change,  change,  change, 

Since  the  sands  of  the  ages  have  run; 
Change,  change,  ever  change; 

Will  the  changes  then  never  be  done? 

"Change,  change,  change;  — 

But  we  sing,  for  but  lately  we  saw, 

Amid  the  fumes  of  the  caldron  strange, 
A  Vision  of  Perfect  Law. '  * 

And  the  fumes  of  the  caldron  rise, 
As  they  circle  about  in  a  ring, 

With  worship  and  awe  in  their  glittering 

eyes, 
Half-hid  by  the  smoke  as  they  sing. 


CONSUMMATION 

THE  Lord  of  the  centuries  said, 
To  the  primitive  woman  who  dandled 
her  babe: 

"Love  it  well,  love  it  well; 
Who  can  tell,  who  can  tell; 
Love  it  living,  and  love  it  dead," 
The  Lord  of  the  centuries  said. 


30 


AWAKENING 

The  Lord  of  the  centuries  said, 

To  the  wild,  wolf-like  man  in  the  shadowy 

cave: 

"  Shield  the  child,  shield  the  wife, 
With  thy  blood,  with  thy  life; 
Shield  thine  own,  shield  thine  own,  be  they 

living  or  dead," 
The  Lord  of  the  centuries  said. 

The  Lord  of  the  centuries  said: 

"I  have  sown  me  a  marvellous,  fruit-bear- 
ing seed. 

Love  shall  grow  to  the  cross, 

Till  man  love  his  own  loss, 

Love  my  love  after  Me,  after  Me,  heart 
and  head.  — 

Ah  joy,  my  joy!  "  the  Lord  of  the  centu- 
ries said. 


AWAKENING 

HEAVEN  is  a  state  of  fine  resolve,  I 
deem; 

And  shall  he  breathe  in  Heaven  who  never 
drew 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

His  soul's  breath  deeply,  as  enraged  to  do, 
Drunk  with  some  glimpse  of  God's  con- 
summate scheme? 

O  we  are  never  saved  until  it  seem, 

In  some  mad  moment,  that  the  Truth  is 

true, 

Inexorable,  insatiate  to  pursue, 
Hem  us  around,   and    hurl    us   from    our 

dream;  — 

Then  find  our  souls  fit  allies  marshalling, 
A  Heaven  alert  for  our  awakening. 


A  NEW  DRINKING  SONG 

DRINK  of  my  wine,  O  God; 
Thou  know'st  the  feet  that  trod 
The  groaning  press;  the  hands  were  also 

Thine 

That  hewed  the  clusters  with  the  sword, 
To  make  this  wine  of  mine;  — 
Drink  to  the  lees,  O  Lord, 
Drink  of  Thy  wine. 


32 


REALITY 


REALITY 

THE  rough,  bare  sides  of  stern  reality 
I  clasp,  to  them  I  cling, 
Too  close  for  song. 

Once  from  a  golden  goblet  full  of  gleams, 
I  poured  me  streams  of  dreams; 
But  that  was  long  ago,  — how  long! 
Slow  God   unveils   the    massive   peaks  of 

stone, 

The  chasmed  cliffs,  to  these  I  turn  alone, 
For  these  alone  are  strong. 
As  ivy  clings,  God's  stern  reality 
I  clasp,  to  it  I  cling. 


PRAYER 

I 

IN  mine  own  hell,  mid  tools  to  torture 
me, 

Forged  by  myself  long  since,  unwittingly, 
I  sit  me  down  to  pray. 


33 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

The    beckoning    shadows,   sloping  on  the 

wall, 

Make  all  things  living,  sinister,  and  tall, 
In  mine  own  hell. 

Sometimes  a  molten  fire  sears  my  face 5 
Then  o'er  my  naked  hearth  the  chill  winds 

race, 
And  whistle  shrill. 

Sometimes    I    feel    dog-memory's    shrewd 

bite; 

Then  nothing  visits  me  the  livelong  night, — 
So  dark,  so  long! 

I  am  aghast  at  the  grim  hush  and  gloom, 
At    the    ghost-haunted    precincts    of   this 

room, 
Of  mine  own  place. 

Yet  in  mine  hell,  mid  tools  to  torture  me, 
Forged  by  myself  long  since,  unwittingly, 
I  sit  me  down  to  pray. 


34 


PRAYER 
II 

No  more  mine   eyes  peruse  the  shadowy 

floor, 

Nor  fasten  wildly  on  the  barred  door, 
For  help  delayed. 

Sweet  peace  now  seals  them,  and  I  know 

such  thrills, 
As  when  fresh  hope  the  twigs  and  blossoms 

fills, 
And  spring  is  here. 

Toward  me  flows  rapture 5  such  a  rush  of 

life, 

Giving  the  lie  to  fear,  to  loss,  to  strife, 
Hell  is  not  hell. 

So  in  mine  hell,  mid  sights  to  madden  me, 
Learning  how  God  may  find  and  gladden 

me, 
I  sit  me  down  to  pray. 


35 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


THE  WHOLE 

A  SOUL  may  wander  through  dim  shades 
of  night, 
In  doubt  and  darkness  dense,  in  pain  and 

dole  5 
Yea,  sin  and  pain  may  bow  to  loathsome 

plight 
A  soul. 

Yet  could  our  faint  eyes  grasp  the  wondrous 

whole, 

See  life  emerge  through  failure  into  might, 
As  swims  the  cloud-rid  moon  from  pole  to 

pole, 

Should  we  not  see,  through  darkness,  bane, 

and  blight, 

God  drawing  to  Himself,  Himself  the  goal, 
Through  shifting  shadows,  to  the  perfect 

light, 
A  soul? 


THE  SAVED 


THE  SAVED 

THOUGH    ye   shift,   O    times,   as  the 
world  spins  round, 
Swift  as  the  waters  turn  and  drift, 
What  care  we,  who  the  word  have  found, 
Though  ye  shift? 

We  have  found  the  word  that  fills  the  rift 
In  the  lute  of  life  here  over  the  ground, 
We  can  list  to  the  strain,  and  the  meaning 
sift; 

Whispered  in  Heaven  where  joys  abound, 
Breathed  by  the  winds  as  the  light  leaves 

lift, 
Taught  us  by  God.      We  shall  hear  the 

sound, 
Though  ye  shift. 


37 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


CLIMBING 

WITH    thee    to    climb    to,    I    could 
scale 
The    skyey,    topmost    towers   of    Heaven 

above; 

With  thee  to  climb  to,  could  I  fail 
To  reach  clear  heights  where  radiant  pow- 
ers prevail?  — 
With  thee  to  climb  to,  love? 


PURITY 

IF  I    should    bathe   me    for  a   thousand 
years, 

O  love,  my  love, 

In  crystal  fountains  full  of  cleansing  tears 
Of  saints  above; 
If  I  should  pray, 
And  beat  my  breast,  and  fasting  day  by 

day, 

Weep  bitterly; 

As  pure  as  you  are  pure  I  could  not  be, 
When,  at  still  eventide,  unto  the  light 

38 


REPOSE 

You  lift  your  eyes  to  watch  the  swallow's 

flight, 

Lost  in  the  sky's  unfathomed  mystery, 
Where  God  may  be. 


REPOSE 

I  THANK  you,  love,  for  your  supreme 
repose, 

Slow-moving  grace; 
You  bring  a  dream  of  clinging  hands  that 

softly  close 
An  instant's  space. 

You  move  as  in  the  green-hung  forests  sway 

The  happy  boughs; 

One  seems  to  feel  leaf-touches  light,  that 
flickering,  play 

On  burning  brows. 

And  when  you  raise  your  calm  and  stead- 
fast eyes, 

Our  soul-pangs  cease; 
It  is  as  if  the  fair,  unchanging  summer  skies 

Had  spoken:   "  Peace." 


39 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


BETHESDA 

WHAT  though  I  dragged  me  to  the 
pool  alone? 

Crowded  with  other  cripples  round  its  brink? 
What  though,   by  propping  me  against  a 

stone, 
I  somehow  found  the  strength  to  stoop  and 

drink? 

Of  what  avail  to  strain,  to  strive,  to  sink?  — - 
In  Heaven  God's  pity  woke  and  gave  me 

thee; 
O  love  more  true  than  this  poor  heart  can 

think, 
Stooping,  thou   stirredst   the   pool    of  life 

for  me. 


ESTRANGEMENT 

IF  death  had  intervened  to  whisper, "Nay, 
No  farther!"      But  not   thus  she   slips 
beyond 
My  world  of  word,  and  look,  and  musing 

fond,  — 

Invisible,  and  just  across  the  way. 
40 


Nn  nther  Hi 


ASLEEP 


No  other  life  than  this  life  laps  her  round} 
I  can  suspect  the  sunshine  shining  there 
In  warm  caress  upon  her  braided  hair; 
Her  head  turns  gracefully  at  some  quick 
sound. 

Into  some  book  her  slender  finger  slips 

To  mark  her  reading;  through  her  house- 
plants  bright, 

Green,  delicate  rays  touch  her  calm  cheek 
with  light, 

And  linger  on  the  straight  line  of  her  lips. 

The  welcome  of  her  grey  eyes  goes  —  her 

way  — 
To  greet  some  chance  incomer.      Ah,  sad 

heart, 

Lost  exile  from  her  where  she  sits  apart,  — 
If  death  had  intervened  to  whisper, "  Nay !  * ' 


ASLEEP 

T  TNERRINGLY  as  swallows  seek  the 
\J    South, 
In  sleep  my  thoughts,  unerring,  fly  to  thee; 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

By  day  I  chide  them  for  audacity; 
By  night  they  know  thy  hands  and  feel  thy 
mouth. 

Alas !  they  may  not  stir  thy  life-stream  deep, 
Yet    let   them    skim    the    current    of  thy 

dreams. 

How  fly  they?    Nay,  I  only  know  it  seems 
Thy  cheek  is  laid  to  my  cheek,  —  being 

asleep. 


DREAM-MUSIC 

I  DREAMED  we  sat  in  silence,  she  and  I. 
Long,  long  the  stillness  brooded.  Where- 
fore speak 
Since  words  are  poor  and  weak? 

At  last  I  saw  upon  a  shelf  close  by, 
A  viol  small  and  graceful,  such  of  eld 
The  kindly  masters  held. 

Into  my  hands  I  took  it  eagerly. 

The  tones  were  brief  and  broken,  low  and 

pained, 
As  if  by  dread  restrained,         * 

42 


DREAM-MUSIC 

As  my  love  for  my  lady  still  must  be. 
Yet  my  soul  entered  in  the  instrument, 
O'er  which  I  trembling  bent, 

So  that  at  last  I  knew  not,  verily, 
Whether  I  swept  a  viol  or  my  heart 
For  her  who  sat  apart. 

Then  with  set  lip,  with  large,  dilated  eye, 
She  whom  I  loved  leaned  toward  me,  fall- 
ing fast 
Her  pitying  tears  at  last; 

Herself  was  in  her  look,  and  all  for  me. 
I  held,  possessed  her;  rang  out  every  string 
With  keen,  triumphant  ring. 

One   broke   at   length.      Her  eyes  turned 

heavily. 

Was  it  a  viol  or  my  heart  string  broke? 
What  matter?    I  awoke. 


43 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


IMPERFECTION 

APPLES  of  friendship,  not  earth's  warm- 
est sun 

Can  make  you  perfect?    Tainted,  every  one? 
Yet  taint  and  all,  I  needs  must  find  you 

sweet, 

And  —  lest  I  starve —  stretch  forth  my  hand 
and  eat. 


LOVE'S  THRIFT 

IN  the  merry  month  of  May, 
Let  young  Love  go  wood-cutting. 
Do  you  ask  why  such  employ 
For  this  saucy,  lovely  boy? 
Dear,  it  is  not  airways  May. 

Down  his  shafts  and  crossbow  gay, 

For  a  hatchet  let  him  fling. 

See  the  fagots  piled  with  care 

By  his  fingers  debonair, 

While  the  woods  ring  loud  with  May. 


FORGET-ME-NOTS 

Rough  Love' s  labor  would  you  say? 
Dear,  when  angry  blasts  would  sting, 
He  must  keep  our  hearthstone  warm, 
Though  without  us  howl  the  storm, 
And  it  is  not  always  May. 


FORGET-ME-NOTS 

THE  valley  is  in  shade, for  hills  rise  high 
Like  gaping  jaws  with  sharp  and  jagged 
teeth, 

That  mutter  threats  against  the  impassive 
sky, 

And  overawe  the  cowering  spot  beneath. 
About  the  summits  clings  a  twisted  sheet 
Of  ghostly  snow,  and  ever  in  a  wreath 

Of  formless  mist,  of  gusty,  drifting  sleet, 

A  vaporous  breath  uprises  icily. 

Amid  the  crags  the  flocks  forlornly  bleat, 

And  up  and  down  their  hoof-tracks  heavily 
Score  the  old  slopes  of  herbage  faint  and 

rare. 

Down  in  the  valley,  creaking  ceaselessly, 

45 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

Grows  one  dark  pine.      What  bird  would 

ever  dare 

To  perch  upon  its  sapless  boughs  of  want, 
Or  sing  by  yonder  hovels  grim  and  bare? 

Crushed  'neath  cold  roofs  of  stone,  laid  all 

aslant, 
Anchors  to  stay  them  'gainst  the  winter 

dread, 
These  huts  seem  tombs  men's  wraiths  alone 

should  haunt. 

The  road  winds  by  them  as  in  haste  it  fled 
To  leave  such  dim,  sad  thresholds  in  its 

wake;  — 
Yet  by  the  ditch-side,  mid  the  sorrel  red, 

Bloom  blue  forget-me-nots,  for  love's  sweet 
sake. 


LOVE'S  MIRACLE 


LOVE'S  MIRACLE 

LOVE,  work  thy  wonted  miracle  to-day. 
Here  stand,  in  jars  of  manifold  design, 
Life's  bitter  waters,  mixed  with  mire  and 

clay, 
And  thou  canst  change  them  into  purest 


LOVE  IS  KIND 

LOVE  abhorreth  not  the  cross, 
Even  the  cross  j 
Truest  love  avoids  not  loss, 
Courteth  loss. 

Love  is  patient  and  resigned, 

Still  resigned; 
Being  akin  to  God  in  kind, 

Love  is  kind. 


47 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


FAIR  THOUGHTS  OF  LOVE 

FAIR  thoughts  of  Love  loom  over  us 
like  birds, 
And  brood  upon  our  lives  and  nurse  our 

days. 

These  are  the  agencies,  the  genial  powers 
And  winged  things  of  Fate. 
These  angels  search  our  very  hearts.    Their 

words 
Tremble  through  chaos 5    countless  subtle 

ways 

They  find  to  instigate  our  drowsy  hours 
To  fellowship  with  God. 


FROM  PERSONAL  TO  UNIVERSAL 

SEE  how  the  circles  widen,  till  they  meet 
The  world' s  far-distant  verge,  with  ten- 
der stir: 
And  even  the  world's  dim,  distant  shores 

are  sweet, 

Because   (O  Love,  the  Lord!)   I  think 
of  her. 


48 


LIGHT 
LIGHT 


HE  wills  we  may  not  read  life's  book 
aright, 
Wrest  from  each  awful  line  its  meaning 

clear, 

Till  we  have  bowed  to  read  it  by  the  light 
Of  pallid  tapers  on  some  true-love's  bier. 


THE  SPIRIT  THAT  AFFIRMS  TO 
THE  SPIRIT  THAT  DENIES 

THE  incurable  hoper  smiled:   "  Saved, 
saved  at  last! " 
"How?"    cried    the    doubter,    that    grim 

sceptic  base 
Who  haunts  us,  fearful   questions  on   his 

face. 

"  By  dying,"    gasped   the  other   as    they 
passed. 


49 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


TESTIMONY 

"T  TIS  end,"  we  say.    Ah,  foolish  words 

AA   and  weak 
We  dare  to  whisper  whenas   God  would 

speak, 
Yea,  utter  speech  from  death's  black  portal 

grim :  — 
"  Shall  man  not  live,  since  /  have  lived  with 

him?  " 


THE  CHILD  AND  SORROW 

WITH  never  a  thought  of  the  morrow, 
Into  the  greenwood  wild 
Wandered  a  gleeful  child} 
Saw  there  a  quivering  shape, 
Nerveless  and  terrible-eyed; 
"  Who  are  you?  "  cried  the  boy. 
"  Sorrow,'1  the  shape  replied. 
And  lower  the  clear  birds  sung, 
As  her  ominous  voice  replied, 
And  slower  the  green  leaves  swung:  — 
Till  sudden  the  wood  was  stilled 
By  the  pang  that  her  deep  eyes  filled. 
5° 


SURPRISAL 

"  Sorrow,  sorrow,  sorrow!'* 

Carolled  he,  shrill  and  light, 

Turning  to  butterflies  bright. 

Awfully  starting  away, 

Crooning  low  like  a  Fate, 

Awfully  Sorrow  frowned : 

(tl  can  wait,  wait,  wait," 

So  her  dolorous  descant  ran, 

"  I  can  wait,  wait,  wait, 

I  can  wait  till  the  child  is  a  man/''  — 

Sobbed  the  green  leaves  round  his  head 

Like  mourners  who  sob  for  the  dead. 


SURPRISAL 

WE  have  known  slack  threads  in  life, 
vain,  vacant  hours 

That  brittly  broke  from  off  Fate' s  rattling 
reel, 

In  tag  and  tatter; 
Far   out    of  reach    hung  our  accustomed 

powers, 

We  could  not  lift  the  shield  nor  wield 
the  steel;  — 

Ah  well,  what  matter? 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

Ah,  what  if  Death   (ere  the  tranced  soul 

awoke) 

Had  stolen  on  us  with  stealthy  steps,  as 
thus 

We  dozed  in  the  sun? 

And  grinning  like  a  showman  with  his  joke, 
Before  God  and  His  angels  ushered  us, 
Ashamed,  undone? 


OLD  AND  YOUNG 

/CHILDREN  and  old  folk  greet  us  on 
VJ  the  road 

As  we  ride  onward.  Trailing  his  long  goad 
Beside  the  ox-cart,  the  bowed  peasant  grey, 
The  bent  old  woman  crawling  from  the 

field, 
Dragging  the  scythe  her  arms  no  more  can 

wield, 
Give  wistfully,  "  Good-day." 

The  baby,  striving  in  the  door  to  stand, 
Pleased  with  our  jingling  mule-bells,  waves 

his  hand, 
Not  us  to  greet,  but  life.     The  old  muse 

thus: 

5* 


AN  IMPERIAL  RELIC 


"Who  knows  if  our  dim  eyes  shall  e'er 

behold 

Another  traveller? " — With  grimaces  cold, 
Death  peers  at  them  through  us. 


AN  IMPERIAL  RELIC 

THE    church    is    old    and    dim.      The 
sacristan, 
With  tremulous  murmurs,  waves  us  to  a 

room 
Of  chilly  masonry  and  daylight  wan. 

There    by  a    press,   slow-fumbling    in  the 

gloom, 
He   lights    his   dusty   lamp,   with    unction 

strange, 
While  we  look  on,  too  idle  to  assume 

A  faded  interest.     Now  he  throws  a  range 
Of  doors  agape  5  the  swiftly  leaping  light 
Begins  its  riot  inward.     Lo,  the  change! 


53 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

What  pomp  is  here?    Our  listlessness  takes 

flight 

Before  the  splendid  crucifix,  the  shrine, 
The  grey  saints'  skulls  enriched  with  rubies 

bright, 

With  emerald  eyes  ablaze  around  a  sign 
On  a  pale  scroll,  —  the    mark   of  Charles 

the  Great, 
Strong  hieroglyph,  that  strides  amid  the  fine 

And  priestly  script  of  Alciun  sedate, 
Above  a  seal,  indented  by  the  end 
Of  the    king's    dagger-hilt    of  ponderous 
weight. 

Over  the  symbol  breathlessly  we  bend; 
The  whitewashed  room  grows  reverend  and 

vast. 
It  is  as  if  we,  too,  must  needs  descend, 

As  Otho  did,  through  the  majestic  past; 
And  in  a  death-vault's  dimly-lighted  space, 
Some    ancient     grave-digger,     with    look 
aghast, 


54 


A  MODERN  SIR  GALAHAD 

Raising  a  coffin-lid,  with  old  grimace, 
And  trembling  hand,   half  paralyzed  and 

weak, 
Had  bared  the  Emperor's  sepulchred  face, 

With   color  still  in    the    stern    brow   and 
cheek. 


A  MODERN  SIR  GALAHAD 

THIS  is  Sir  Galahad.      Clear  from  the 
mist 

Of  the  past  we  can  see  him,  gracious,  fair; 
The  lips  that  the  Spirit  loved  and  kissed; 
The  halo  of  palely  golden  hair; 
The  brow  to  the  light  of  the  vision  bare. 
But  a  doubt  to  the  depths  of  his  bright  soul 

creeps, 
And  Sir  Galahad  weeps. 

Is  it  Sir  Galahad?     Forged  to  endure 
This  armor;  these  are  his  true  young  eyes; 
These  are  the  wasted  profile  pure, 
The  eager  hands  that  should  grasp  the  prize, 
The  voice  that  should  thrill  with  the  glad 
surprise; 

55 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

But  a  doubt  to  the  heart  of  the  Knight  is 

come, 
And  Sir  Galahad's  dumb. 

Himself  he  has  questioned:  "  What  is  the 

grail, 

That  by  the  vision  should  be  revealed?" 
He  has  waited.     Alas,  now  visions  fail! 
So  he  mounts  his  steed  and  takes  his  shield, 
And  now  he  fares  through  town  and  field  $ 
Since    doubt    has    entered    Sir    Galahad's 

breast, 
The  Knight  cannot  rest. 

Poor  Sir  Galahad!     Visionless  Knight! 
The  other  knew  visions}  —  ah,  happy  he! 
But    for   thee,    who    seekest    the    mystery 

bright, 

Full  of  agony,  bend  we  the  knee 
And  pray  that  thy  soul  its  hope  may  see, — 
Even  if  it  come  with  thy  latest  breath, 
And  through  that  revealer  whom  men  call 

Death. 


THAT  DAY 


THAT  DAY 

OHOLY  day,  how  still  shall  be  their 
tread 
That  bear  me  out  from  the  loud  halls  of 

life, 
From  where  the  conflicts  rage,  the  feast  is 

spread ! 

I  can  endure,  can  steep  me  in  the  strife, 
Since  mid  life's  jars  thou  wait'st  unwearied, 
Calm,  holy  day, —  the  day  when  I  lie  dead. 


DEATH  THE  LOVER 

DEATH,  let  me  grip  thine  hand. 
I  cannot  understand 

What  Life  is  buzzing  to  me,  bending  low, 
Low  by  my  listening  ear j  — 
But  thou  art  plain,  thy  speech  is  calm  and 

clear, 
Certain  thy  brief  command. 

Death,  let  me  know  thine  arm 
Shall  shield  me  from  Life's  harm, 
Tell  me  again  thou  waitest  still  beside, 

57 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

Beside  yon  low-browed  gate;  — 
True  lover,  so  in  steadfastness  to  wait, 
In  patient,  perfect  calm. 

Do,  Life,  thy  silly  best, 

Tempt  on  some  frantic  quest 

Poor    souls  with    piping    preludes;  —  ever 

Death, 

Death  waits  by  yon  yew  tree, 
And  strong  and  imperturbable  is  he, 
And  in  his  arms  is  rest. 


THE  FADING  OF  THE  LIGHT 

IN  limpid  light  the  glacier's  silvery  flow 
Flashes  to  splendor;  half  way  down  the 
height, 
Dark  pines  turn  vivid,  clothed  with  mellow 

might; 
And,  lava-like,  the  stream  pours  fire  below. 

Above  the  ice-peaks,  lucidly  aglow, 
The    slow    sun    lingers;    fine-spun    cloud- 
•  shreds  bright 


THE  VOICE  OF  DEATH 

Dapple  the  radiant  air  and  swim  in  light, 
Till  sinks  the   orb.     Now  outlines  vanish 
slow; 

First  at  our  feet  the  flow'rs  grow  faint  and 

wan; 
Then  calm,  dread  fading  out  from  peak  and 

tree 
Of  light  the  eye  still  clings  to,  lapses  on; 

While  to  the  heart   pierces,   with    night's 

chill  breath, 

Presageful  knowledge  of  the  hour  of  death, 
When  from  us  light  shall  fail  inexorably. 


THE  VOICE  OF  DEATH 

LOVE  of  the  dead  hath  wrought  in  me 
some  shame. 

My  sins  besiege,  beset  me,  without  end; 
My  being  falters  like  a  slender  flame 

Rocked    by   resistless    currents,   fain   to 

bend, 
To  call  on  some  strong  name. 


59 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

In  lieu  of  that  I  dreamed  to  be  the  whole, — 
The  vast  mechanic  rise  and  fall  of  law, — 

I  feel  strange  eyes  that  fasten  on  my  soul, 
Strange  shapes  that  pluck  my  garments, 
and  would  draw 

To  some  dear-purchased  goal. 

Great  Death  hath  passed  this  way,  his  noise- 
less tread 

Hath  shook  the  very  centre  of  my  heart; 
His  hand  once  laid  upon  my  shrinking  head, 

Hath  left  a  brand  that  never  shall  depart; 
I  mind  me  what  he  said: 

"Dost  thou  yearn  after  him  hath  come  with 
me? 

Then  listen,  thou :  — 
There  is  one  law,  one  hope,  one  destiny, 

For  then  and  now. 

Wouldst  thou  be  near  him,  touch  his  golden 
hair, 

See  his  calm  face, 

And  know  his  heart-throbs?  One  sole  road 
leads  there. 

To  my  still  place 
Full  many  pathways  wander,  full  of  gloom, 

One,  only  one, 
60 


THE  VOICE  OF  DEATH 

Leads  where  he  lives,  to  that  clear,  radiant 
room 

This  soul  hath  won 

Through  loyal  love;   love's  yoke  he  bore 
in  life 

With  lofty  cheer;  — 

Shalt  thou,  O  faithless,  find  through  love- 
less strife, 

His  presence  dear?" 

Death's  voice  goes  echoing  on.    Mid  dark- 
ened graves 

I  seem  to  stand,  and  ever  closer  wind 
The  shapes  about  me  in  strong,  eddying 

waves. 

How  shall  I  find  my  dead?    How  ever  find 
That  reverent  love  that  saves? 

I  stumble  in  the  darkness,  every  breath 

Drawn  gasping  in  thick  twilight  all  about. 
Is  here  the  pathway?    Naught  the  dim  night 

saith,  — 
But  through  the  dark  those  shapes  that 

find  me  out, 
The  echoing  voice  of  Death. 


61 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


RUMOR  FROM  BEYOND 

AH,  heavy  leisure  of  a  cureless  grief! 
Yet  while  earth  grows  unreal,  from  un- 
dreamed spaces 
Dim,  shadowy  figures   slant  their  solemn 

faces, 

Their  deep  eyes  splendid  with  appeased 
belief. 

Close  to  the  heart,  this  light  throng  whis- 
pereth 

A  rumor.  Swift  as  darts  the  skimming 
swallow 

The  quick  breath  finds  the  heart's  death- 
chamber  hollow, 

The  silvery  strain  smites  through  the  hush 
of  death. 

Transfusing  yearning's  bitter  discontent 
With  promise  of  large  doom,  ethereal  voices, 
Make  music,  for  a  hidden  hope  rejoices 5 
Thrill,   for  the  heart  shall  yet  give  back 
assent.  — 


AFIELD 

And,    " Peace,"   they  breathe,   "a  peace 

unstained  of  strife; 
Life  for  the  dead,  undying  glorious  life." 


AFIELD 

I  HAVE  gazed  upon  the  earth  with  happy 
eyes; 
I  have  given  their  due  to  blossom,  blade, 

and  tree; 

Beneath  my  feet  the  great  field's  golden  glee 
Flees  up  to  where  grey,  gaunt  old  fences 


And  bar  its  flight  in  zigzag,  clinging-wise, 
Lest  on  the  shadowy  hills'  immensity 
Of  purple  shade,  it  rush,  impetuously, 
To  scale  yon  blue  tranquillity  of  skies. 

Here  quiver,  on  the  nut's  sun-dappled  bole, 
Red  squirrel-flanks;    there  cheeps  a  swal- 
low's bill; 
Mid-field  a  robin  pauses,  perks,  is  still. 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

An  ecstasy  of  life  thrills  through  the  whole. 
Now   my   eyes   float   with   clouds,    having 

climbed  the  hill, 
And  floods  of  quenchless  light  my  being  fill. 


SUN,   CARDINAL,  AND   CORN 
FLOWERS 

WHENCE  gets  earth  her  gold  for  thee, 
O  Sunflower? 

Her  woven,  yellow  locks  so  fine 
Must  go  to  make  that  gold  of  thine. 

And  whence  thy  red  beside  the  stream, 
O  Cardinal-flower? 

She  pricks  some  vein  lies  near  her  heart 
That  thy  rich,  ruddy  hues  may  start. 

And  whence  thy  blue  amid  the  corn, 
O  Corn-flower? 

Her  deep-blue  eyes  gleam  out  in  glee, 
The  glories  of  her  work  to  see. 


STILLNESS 


STILLNESS 

THIS  morning  it  was  very  still. 
Like  wild-rose  petals  cloudlets  lay 
In  the  wide  hush;  there  was  no  thrill 
Of  any  leaf-point;  far  away, 
The  burnished  mirror  of  the  bay 
Reflected,  in  clear  depths  aglaze, 
The  tranquil-tinted  cheeks  of  day, 
Half  drowsing  through  a  cobweb  haze. 


CRAGS  ON  THE  HUDSON 

LIKE   fierce,  impetuous   lions  rushing 
fast 

To  lave  their  burning  feet,  then  suddenly, 
Stopped,  turned  to  stone,   they  stand  im- 
movably, 

Their  crests  upreared  to  Heaven,  as  in  a  last, 
Mad  howl  of  grim  despite.  Bare  to  the  blast 
Their  wrinkled  crowns,  but  down  below  a 

ring 

About  their  captive  feet  the  earth  hath  cast 
Of  delicate  verdure  redolent  of  spring. 

65 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


THE  PLACE  IS  CHILL 

THE  place  is  chill  as  it  were  night; 
Inexorably  the  keen  winds  bite; 
High  in  this  mountain's  solitude, 
Stripped  of  the  valley' s  wavering  mood, 
We  feel  all  Nature's  brutal  might. 

Rough  boulders  span  the  stream;  in  fright 
It  hurries  on,  its  surface  white 
With  lingering  foam ;  with  spray  imbrued 
The  place  is  chill. 

Yet  look  toward  yonder  peak's  bare  height; 
Grey  walls  still  cling  to  that  grim  site. 
Here,  then,  with  stalwart  hearts  endued, 
Men  once  braved  Nature's  menace  rude.  — 
How  few  the  blocks  still  left  upright! 
The  place  is  chill. 


66 


TORPOR 


TORPOR 

THIS  afternoon  life's  good  word  trails 
its  wing; 

I  know  not  where  to  find  a  rumor  kind. 
The  hills  are  shrivelled,  and  no  bird  will 

sing, 
No  bush  will  bloom,  no  brook  will  speak 

its  mind; 

Life  fails  for  torpor,  and  swift -footing  by, 
A  fierce  wind  plucks  the  last  leaves  faint 
and  dry. 


THE  HEART  OF  MAN 

I  WAIT  the  word  of  destiny  that  shall 
explain, 

The  word  inexorable  that  shall  impart. 
Meanwhile  the  sun  drifts  o'er  the  glittering 

plain, 
The  lily's  chalice  gleams,  the  swallows 

dart; 

There  is  not  anywhere  a  hint  of  pain; — • 
The  pain  for  all  the  Universe  is  in  my 
heart. 

67 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


SUNSHINE  ON  THE  LAWN 

UPON    the   lawn   lie   floods   of  yellow 
light, 
And  yellow  puffballs,  downy,  soft,  and 

round, 
The    dandelions    make     the     greensward 

bright; 

Upon  the  lawn  lie  floods  of  yellow  light. 
Above  are  yellow  butterflies  in  flight, 
Gay  sparks  of  light  that  flicker  from  the 

ground; 

Upon  the  lawn  lie  floods  of  yellow  light, 
And  yellow  puffballs,  downy,  soft,  and 
round. 


AUTUMNAL  PEACE 

THESE  still,  translucent,  and  embalmed 
days, 
The  emblazoned  splendors  of  the  silent 

wood 

Send  to  the  very  soul,  in  subtle  ways, 
Calm  benedictions  phrased  in  quietude. 
Uplifting  is  the  blue  pond's  fearless  mood 
63 


SUNSET 

Of  frankness  flashed  to  Heaven.    The  mind 

is  stilled 
To  follow  flights  of  birds;  the  heart  fulfilled 

By  calm,  pervasive  chorals'  gentle  strife, 
Tender,  restrained,  on  lambent  air  distilled 

In  drifting  dirges  of  submissive  life. 


SUNSET 

the  sun  drops  low, 
^Let  us  turn  and  go 
Through  the  still,  old  town,  to  the  place 

Where  the  grey  bridge  lies, 

And  the  church  towers  rise 
Against  a  turquoise  space. 

Against  a  fold 

Of  the  sunset's  gold 
(For  the  sunset  is  gold  to-night), 

Stark  poplars  stand 

On  the  near  mainland, 
And  bathe  their  peaks  in  the  light. 

Betwixt  the  bridge 

And  the  mainland's  ridge 
The  basin  is  full  of  fire; 

'Tis  smooth  and  still, 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

And  down  from  the  hill 

The  tinkle  of  bells  draws  nigher. 
From  a  grassy  side, 
To  the  pool's  calm  tide, 

The  cattle  straggle  to  drink 

Of  the  flame-colored  stream, 
And  the  orange  gleam, 

That  tinges  the  water's  brink, 
Makes  flame  their  flanks 
*  Gainst  the  shining  banks, 

Where  the  golden  bubbles  wink, 
As  the  sun's  broad  rays, 
In  a  jewelled  blaze 

Of  royal  colors,  sink. 


THE  BATS'   REVEL 

LIKE  a  stronghold  frowning, 
Armed  men  might  enter, 
High  the  hillock  crowning 
At  the  grey  town's  centre, 

Stands  the  old  church  massive, 
Bare,  save  from  one  corner 
Juts  a  shape  impassive, 

Saint,  or  knight,  or  mourner, 
70 


THE  BATS'   REVEL 

Lady,  page,  or  squire, 
None  can  now  discover} 

All  the  windows  higher, 
Ivy  covers  over. 

Dropping  blossoms  yellow, 
Crowd  fair  lindens  blooming} 

And  around  stand  mellow, 
Peaked  old  houses  looming, 

Gables  piled  together, 
Rising  high  and  higher} 

Moonlight,  this  clear  weather}  — 
Then  from  the  church  spire, 

Into  space  out-sweeping, 
As  the  moon  shines  clearer, 

Myriad  bats  are  keeping 
Revels  queer  and  queerer, 

Whirling  in  strange  manner 
From  this  Christian  steeple, 

Worshipping  Diana, 
Scandalizing  people ! 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


THE  RUNE  OF  THE  WIND 

OUT  of  limitless  acres  of  space 
Flutters  a  voice,  to  die  or  obtain; 
Out  of  mystery's  dwelling-place;  — 
Is  it  breathing  of  rapture  or  pain? 

O  thou,  aloft  like  a  witch  in  the  air, 
Now  in  the  east  and  now  in  the  west, 
Canst  thou  not  lisp  us  the  lifelong  quest? 
Murmuring  sayings  of  sibylline  eld, 
Babbling  messages  blindly  spelled, 
Tossed  in  the  north  and  tossed  in  the  south, 
Breathe  us  life's  spell  with  thy  lipless  mouth, 
Pray  the  ineffable  prayer. 

Prophet  of  mysteries,  visions  rehearse, 
Chant  us  the  rune  that  we  hunger  to  read; 
For  Hell  incommunicate  voices  we  need, 
For  Heav'n  such  anthems  speechless  and 

vast; 

Piercing  the  future,  possessing  the  past, 
Recount     us      transcendence,  —  grandilo- 
quent, come! 

Words  avail  us  not.    Lo,  thou  art  dumb, — 
Yet  thou  speakest  the  Universe. 
72 


THE  SWALLOW 

As  waiteth  the  earth  for  thee  we  would  wait, 
Straining  in  stress  at  the  sound  of  the  sweep 
Of  thy  rapturous  intoning,  cadenced,  deep} 
Trembling  in  hush  at  the  tingling  thrill 
Of  thy  delicate  whisper  small  and  still}  — 
Immersed  in  brightness,  involved  in  gloom, 
Voice  of  man's  latent,  searchless  doom, 
Thou  inarticulate! 

Out  of  limitless  acres  of  space 
Flutters  a  voice,  to  die  or  obtain; 

Out  of  mystery* s  dwelling-place;  — 
Is  it  breathing  of  rapture  or  pain? 


THE  SWALLOW 

HIGH  in  the  air  the  swallow  wings, 
Darts  and  swings;  — 
And  the  red  sun's  anguish  is  in  the  west. 
The  red  sun  reaches  the  swallow's  breast, 
The  warm,  white  breast  is  dyed  by  the  west, 
A  dazzling  red-gold  is  the  breast. 
And  now  he  wings, 
Darts  and  swings, 
A  palpitant  sunbeam,  borne  on  wings. 


73 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


TRANSFORMATION 

THE  waters  in  resistless  flow 
Give  themselves  over  to  the  fall  5 
Torn  into  spray  they  fume  below, 
As  if  the  extent  of  fate  to  know 
Against  the  cliffs'  impassive  wall. 

But  when  close  by,  'twixt  boulders  high, 

Avoiding  harm  with  steady  wing, 
Yon  wood-dove  white  soared  suddenly, 
This  wild  place  thrilled  to  ecstasy, 
And  came  to  pass  a  wondrous  thing. 

The  vista' d  cliffs  appeared  a  nave, 

The  blue  sky  shone  a  painted  dome, 
The  dove  winged  on  men's  souls  to  save, 
And  'twas  God's  Love,  a  torrent  wave, 
Swept  through  this  church  in  awful  foam. 


74 


EARLIER  PIECES 


THE  OUTSIDE  SKY 

SHALL  I  live  in  piles  of  masonry? 
Shall  I  sit  me  down  in  my  palace  of 

sense, 
And  cognisance  take,  and  mastery, 

Of  every  wonder  brought  from  thence, 
From  hither  and  yon,  by  my  senses  fine, 
And  heaped  up  high  in  this  palace  of  mine? 

Fair  is  the  palace,  O,  fair  to  see; 

Carven  with  figures  gay  is  the  wall, 
And  hung  with  storied  tapestry  ; 

And  I  could  be  happy  here  withal, 
But  that  out  of  the  pierced  windows  high 
I  can  just  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  outside  sky. 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


A  COMMON  MIRACLE 

SOMETIMES  we  lie  awake,  too  spent 
to  weep, 

Longing  for  rest  as  deserts  long  for  rain; 
Wondering  what  spirit  stirs  the  tired  brain; 
Why  the  poor  heart  should  weary  vigil  keep; 
Why  night  withhold  the  pleasant  touch  of 

sleep 
From  our  pale  eyelids;  murmuring:  "Life 

is  pain; 

O  for  that  rest  that  doth  not  wake  again!  " 
Then  comes  a  sound  of  rushing  through 

the  air, 
And  the  baked  sands  drink  up  the  plashing 

rain; 
Sleep   soaks   our    souls   in   answer   to    our 

prayer;  — 

And,  marvelous!  the  next  day  life  is  plain, 
Easy  and  simple,  profitable  and  fair. 


THE  PERFECT  DAY 

THE  PERFECT  DAY 

IT  is  so  short  a  space  'twixt  day  and  night! 
Can  ye  not  keep  it  spotless,  heart  and 

brain? 
Will  ye  not  league  to  keep  the  scutcheon 

bright 
Of  these  few  hours?    Then,  without  one 

stain, 
Bearing  the  blazon  of  a  heavenly  light, 

Thou  shalt  be  hung  aloft,  O  perfect  day, 
In  my  dark  halls  of  life,  —  and  to  my  sight 
Shalt  gleam  a  star,  to  show  me  what  I 
may. 

SINS  OF  OMISSION 

THAT  deed  I  should  have  compassed 
yesterday 
Did  grow  and  grow,  till  like  a  weight  it 

lay 

Upon  me, — though    I    turned    and   went 
my  way. 


79 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

But  not  to  safety,  for  around  my  bed 
All  the  undone  doth  gather,  and  like  lead 
Will  on  my  coffin  weigh,  when  I  am  dead; 

And  nailing  me  within,  with  deathly  stress, 
Will  keep  from  me  the  sun  of  righteous- 
ness, 

Which  may  not  enter  through,  my  sleep  to 
bless. 


FAILURE 

SET  the  pale   mark   of  failure  on  my 
brow 

When  I  am  dead. 
Those  who  have  won,  the  garland's  grace 

may  show, 
But  not  my  head. 

I  never  touched  achievement,  still  it  fled; 
And  what   I   wrought   I  did  not  see  nor 

know. 

Set  the  pale  mark  of  failure  on  my  brow, 
And  let  me  go. 


80 


DEJECTION 


DEJECTION 

LIKE  to  a  bird  with  broken  wings 
Is  my  soul, 

Which  cannot  rise  from  earthly  things 
To  view  the  whole. 

When  it  would  rise  its  poor  wings  trail,  - 

Alas,  poor  soul!  — 
It  sees  but  one  pool  and  the  sedges  pale, 

Not  the  whole. 


LIFE  COMES  TO  SOME 

LIFE  comes  to  some  with  aspect  bright, 
Her  hair  ablaze 
With  JQwels'  rays, 
And  in  her  cincture  gleaming  jets  of  light. 

To  some  with  halting  step  and  slow, 

With  tangled  hair, 

And  eyes  astare 
For  what  is  not,  she  comes,  and  will  not  go. 


81 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


HEAVEN  AND  HELL 

SHALL  I  seek  Heaven  that  I  may  find  a 
place 

Where  with  my  soul  'tis  well? 
If  I   seek  thus,  though  I  may  strive   for 

Heaven, 
My  face  is  set  toward  Hell. 


IN  YOUR  MIND 

IN  your  mind  (now  you  will  think  me 
fanciful), 

In  its  bright,  breezeless,  and  clarified  at- 
mosphere, 

Sit  I  and  muse  as  in  a  sunlit  garden, 
Or  like  a  god  move  blissful  to  and  fro. 

Never   a    day,   passed   mid   that   garden's 
loveliness, 

Love-sharp  eyes  scanning  its  beauty  nar- 
rowly, 

Wandering  under  its  sun-translucent  foli- 
age, 

Never,  my  love,  found  I  a  single  weed. 
82 


ALONE 
ALONE 


THOU  art  alone,  my  sister?     Dost  thou 
guess 

The  meaning  of  such  loneliness  as  thine? 
It  is  as  if  there  towered  a  soaring  pine 
Amid  a  vast  and  tangled  wilderness 
Of  lesser  growth.      Aloft,  mid  strain  and 

stress 

Of  weather,  doth  it  rear  its  tapering,  fine, 
And  haughty  peak.     And  how,   without 

some  sign, 

Should  creeping  things  suspect  its  loneliness? 
How  should  they  dream  of  pangs,  to  them 

unknown, 
That  rend  in  growth  each  gently  swaying 

limb? 
And  how  conceive  the   strange,  insistent 

moan 

Of  winds  that  stir  such  lofty  branches  dim? 
Earthward  they  look;  while  full  of  mystery, 
And  skyward  pointing,  towers  the  stately 

tree. 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 
II 

But  comes  there  not  a  time  in  which  the 

wind 

Breathes  music  softly  for  the  pine-tree's  own 
Enchanted  hearing?    When  for  it  alone 
The  clouds  their  splendid,  fleecy  locks  un- 
bind 
And  spread  them  out  in  air?     And  though 

they  find 

It  ever  soaring,  while  the  world  lies  prone, 
'Tis  as  the  monarch  is  upon  his  throne, 
His  solitary  griefs  with  joys  combined.  — 
Alone   with  wind  and   clouds,   the   lesser 

mould 
May  not  attain  thy  height,  but  thou  o'er 

them 
Canst     bend    thy    boughs    and    whisper. 

Mighty-souled, 
Tell  them  of  wind  and  clouds j  offer  thy 

stem 
If  they  would  climb ;  —  and   find   it  good 

to  be 
That  which  thou  art,  O  solitary  tree. 


84 


ONE  WAY  OF  TRUSTING 


ONE  WAY  OF  TRUSTING 

NOT  trust  you,  dear?    Nay,  'tis  not 
true. 

As  sailors  trust  the  shifting  sea 
From  day  to  day,  so  I  trust  you. 

They  know  how  smooth  the  sea  can  be 5 
And  well  they  know  its  treachery 

When    tempests    blow;    yet    forth    they 

thrust 
Their  ships,  as  in  security.  — 

They  trust  it,  dear,  because  they  must. 


AGNOSTICS 

YE  led  by  hands  ye  cannot  see 
To  heights  ye  cannot  know, 
Who  call  your  Godhead,  Destiny, 
And  deem  the  soul's  futurity 
May,  or  may  not,  be  so;  — 
Areye  our  saints?    Areye  the  men 
To  make  our  Israel  whole  again? 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 

At  least  the  dear  old  fables  taught 
Of  hope,  and  Heaven,  and  love; 
And  taught  so  well  that  men  have  wrought 
And  battled;  —  for  a  thing  of  naught? 

Nay,  God  be  judge  above! 
Within  the  balance  of  the  Lord, 
Their  deeds  are  weightier  than  your  word. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN 
TOWN 

1AM  held  by  a  thought  in  a  dungeon 
deep, 

Deep  under  the  earth.     In  a  certain  town, 
Where  traffic  and  roar  infect  the  air, 
Where  the  fresh,  salt  wind,  that  fain  would 

sweep 

Straight  to  the  river,  is  laden  down 
With  all  pollution,  I  saw  a  pair  — 
Pitiful  pair  —  of  babies  sit, 
Back  from  the  street,  in  a  doorway  dim, 
On  a  tenement  threshold  cold  and  bare, 
Stirling  each  his  sobbing  fit, 
Fearful  each  lest  he  cry  aloud, 
And  draw  the  curse  or  the  blow  on  him. 


86 


RETRIBUTION 

And  the  thought  that  holds  me  fast-bound, 

down 

Under  the  earth  in  a  dungeon  grim, 
Is  that  these  two   knew  the  heart  of  the 

crowd, 
In  the  very  midst  of  the  Christian  town. 


RETRIBUTION 

FALSE,  false,  false. 
Wealth  have  ye  and  your  brothers  lie 
in  the  straw; 
Knowledge   have   ye   and    your    brothers 

grope  in  the  dark; 

Leisure    have   ye   and   your   brothers    are 
bound  to  the  wheel; 

O  false,  false,  false! 

False,  false,  false. 
Down  from  your  painted  couches  into  the 

street, 

Into  the  grimy  square.    In  the  glare  of  day, 
Shall  ye  not  stoop  to  reap  that  ye  have 
sown? 

O  false,  false,  false! 


SOUL  AND  SENSE 


PEACE 

PEACE,  peace. 
But  where? 
Everywhere. 
In  the  air; 
In  torrent's  roar, 
And  brook's  soft  sweep  ; 
In  things  that  soar, 
And  things  that  creepy 
Where  gardens  bloom, 
In  desert  sand; 
Where  pine-trees  gloom, 
Where  vineyards  stand ; 
In  crowded  street, 
On  trackless  hill; 
In  motions  fleet, 
And  trances  still; 
In  sailing  clouds, 
And  ocean's  green; 
In  chilly  shrouds, 
And  bright  eyes'  sheen; 
In  noontide  bright, 
And  darkest  night;  — 
Peace,  peace. 


AN  ORACLE 

But  where? 
Everywhere 
To  him  who  reads  aright. 


AN  ORACLE 

TREMBLING  weakly  beneath  the  bur- 
den of  worthily  living, 
Came  to  the  angel  of  Fate  a  struggling  soul, 

where,  sphinx-like, 

Solemn,  the  angel  sat,  regarding  the  past 
and  the  future. 

Wearily  murmured  the  soul:  "Dost  see 
my  burden,  O  angel? 

Crushed  'neath  this  weight,  in  my  woe,  be- 
hold how  I  falter  and  stumble; 

How  may  I  lighten  my  load?*'  —  "By 
love,"  the  angel  made  answer. 

"Loving  is  all  my  pain,"  the  soul  sighed 

out;   "'neath  the  sorrow, 
Anguish  of  others  I  bow.     And  what  may 

I  add  to  my  living 
To  lighten  so  grievous  a  load?  "  —  "  More 

love,"  the  angel  made  answer. 


THE  FIRST  EDITION  OF  THIS  BOOK  CONSISTS 
OF  FIVE  HUNDRED  COPIES  WITH  THIRTY- 
FIVE  ADDITIONAL  COPIES  ON  HAND-MADE 
PAPER  PRINTED  DURING  MARCH  1896  BY 
THE  EVERETT  PRESS  BOSTON 


Kimball, 
Sovl  & 


P&rke 


K49 


sense 


M39994 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


YC159451 


